The Joke's The Same, But Not The Delivery
by The Satyricon
Summary: The Joker hates changes...so why is making them for Harley Quinn?...First Story in the JHQ series by The Satyr Icon...Be kind, review kindly!


**Title: The Joke's The Same, But Not The Delivery**

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Author: ** The Satyr Icon

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Permission to Archive: ** You only have to ask

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Category: **J/HQ...Romance

**Genre: **Hetro

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Rating: **M for sMut

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Summary: ** The Joker hates changes...so why is making them?

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Keywords: **Joker / Harley Quinn

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Spoilers: **None, set after "Mad Love"

**Word Count: **688

**Disclaimer: ** The Joker and Harley Quinn are property of DC Comics; I am just writing for fun, and if I owned them, all would be good and clean in the World.

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Author Notes: ** This is My first foray into My favorite insane couple's lives. Be kind to review, review kindly.

** The Joke's The Same, But Not The Delivery **

The Joker once shot a man just to see him die. Nothing new, but the victim was a stand-up comedian that had the gall to change the punchline to one of Henny Youngman's old puns; so of course, the mad man HAD to kill the poor sap. The Joker hated changes to classic routines, but even i _he /i _ made them unconsciously.

"Ye Olde Hide Out" was still an abandoned warehouse, still in the most neglected part of Gotham, but the Joker made some changes to it...made changes in it:

Before, the décor in the hide-out was Modern Slob, with a slight ode to the Delta Tau Chi Frat House from one of the Joker's favorite films, "Animal House." Now, the Boss's gang swept and cleaned the inside of the warehouse. Some cob-webs were allowed, for ambiance, but the boys had better get the place looking nice. They also had to watch their mouths...and their eyes and hands. The secret lair had been an all boys club. "No Girls Allowed!" was the unwritten rule.

But the Boss had gone to Arkham Asylum again, alone. And met Dr. Harleen Quinzel, psychologist. And she did what no one in the gang did. She busted him out. In alone, out together. Now, she was Harley Quinn, the Duchess of Stooges, counterpoint to The Joker being the Clown Prince of Crime.

The Joker NEVER shared the stage before, but Harley was the opening act now, the warm-up before spotlight hit him and he killed the crowd. She killed in her act, too. That's why she was around. She shared his sanctuary, too. But even "Ye Olde Hide Out" was old terminology now. Harley almost peed herself when the Boss yelled to the boys to "get back to the HQ!" He never said THAT before. And never caught the symbolism within the letters.

The Joker used to regale his gang with anecdotes and monologues, cutting them up with jests about the Dark Blight, Batman, Robin the Boy Hostage, and other numb-nut costume well into the night, finally crashing to the floor and fitfully slept where he had held them enthralled with his wit. Now The Boss slept away from the gang, and in a separate room. In that room was his bed, but it wasn't just a cot, like he had at the Arkham Asylum but a huge bed, mattresses, pillows, and headboard, sheets and pillowcases, everything. Instead of a couple of thread-bare blankets on a messy floor, the bed was made up in the morning, and the sheets were washed on a regular basis. There were even fresh sets. Ever since that crazy broad started hanging around, things were tidy and clean, from the HQ to his clothes.

The Joker was still a blanket-hog, and now they were wrapped around him.

But he no longer slept alone.

Harley shared his bed.

And now he wrapped his lanky, muscular body around her voluptuous one, his sharp chin atop her blond hair, his hands on her breasts, his arms wrapped around her ribs, his legs interlocked with hers. Her butt was snug against his crotch.

Well past the midnight hour, her eyes opened, and a grin sliced across her lips, and she rubbed her asscheeks on the Joker's cock.

"Misssssssssstah J," her voice warbled, southern innocence and raw sex combined. No answer from him. Just a snore. She turned, smiled, and held his nose until he gasped for air.

"Blast it woman! I need sleep!" He sat up, his arm ready to backhand her.

"I need some puddin'," She giggled, rolled to show her body, her flesh, to him, for him; the red nightie was off. Well...he had torn it off earlier; he'd had to get her a new one.

"Again?" His eyes wide. She sat up, leaned over, nodded, her mouth wide, tongue out.

"Again." His head fell back into the pillow. Her head gently rested on his lower abdominals. Again.

Some things stay the same...He still doesn't sleep all through the night.

But some things change...Harley was the reason now.

**The End**


End file.
